


The Feast Of Sylaise

by Adarian



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4468070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merrill invites everyone over for what they assume is a dinner party. When no one else can go, Varric attends in order to spare her feelings. Varric spends the evening with her and found that her pleasant company and delicious food may have won him over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Feast Of Sylaise

**Author's Note:**

> 100 Prompt Challenge: "Food".
> 
> Also, this was almost entirely because I suddenly felt really homesick for some of the food I grew up with.

The invitation was almost illegible, but Varric figured most of it out. Merrill wanted them to come over for dinner, he assumed, and the date was later that week. It seemed silly that the girl was attempting a dinner party in her tiny home, but it was oddly sweet. Maybe it was an anniversary of her arriving in Kirkwall, but Varric couldn't remember the date for the life of him. 

He mentioned the party to Hawke, who briefly said that she couldn't come since her Mother was still too upset to be left alone. Fenris had no interest, Aveline was working, and Anders claimed that he had to restock his clinic. Isabela was...well, frankly, he wasn't sure where she was, but she was unlikely to turn up. So it was up to him. He didn't want to make the kid cry. 

Varric arrived in the Alienage a few hours before sundown, confused that she had asked them over so early. There seemed to be more kids running around more than usual and some adults were playing a game with some sort of mallet. He walked into her house, sighing.

"Daisy, you left your door unlocked again," he called out.

"I left it open for you, silly," she said. "Come into the kitchen."

Varric was surprised how nice the place smelled. The fire was roaring away, pleasant after the cold damp air of Kirkwall in winter. A few candles were lit upon the mantle and he could smell something cooking near by.

He came into the kitchen and found Merrill flipping what looked like bread on the top of her stove. A pot boiled beside it and several little crispy balls cooled on a napkin on the table.

"Would you be lovely and pick some parsley at the garden in my window sill? Just a few pinches. It's the one furthest right."

Varric agreed and did so, cupping the herbs in his hand. She took them from him gently and sprinkled them into the pot before closing it again.

"I'm happy you made it," she said cheerfully, putting the fried bread on another napkin. "I didn't think anyone was going to come. We're all so busy."

She put another piece of dough onto the stove and it crackled against the heat. Varric felt his toes curl happily. 

"You want to try one of the cresias and see if it's any good?" Merrill asked. "I want to make sure it's not too sweet."

Varric pointed to the balls and she nodded. "Go ahead, it should be cool now."

He ate one slowly. A little like sesame, but sweet and soft. It practically melted into his mouth. He reached for another and she gently smacked his hand away.

"They're not for you. I need at least twenty, so you leave them be," she teased. "I promise you can have the leftovers." 

"Who is this feast for then?" He asked, gesturing to the table.

"Us, but the treats are for the children. It's the Feast of Sylaise, you have to give your clan's children something sweet that you cooked over the fire. They took me all afternoon. Last year I burned most of them, but I had just moved and barely knew how to use this stove. Not bad for never living indoors before."

"So this is a Dalish holiday?"

"Mostly, but the city elves do it too. It's less religious, but they enjoy it. It's a little holiday. You make dinner and make sure all your community's children have something to eat and a warm bed to sleep in. There are only a few children in our alienage, but I keep extra just in case one of the refugees finds their way here."

Varric sat down at the table, watching her work. "You did this alone last year?"

"It was a bit lonely," she admitted. "It reminded me when I first joined the Sabrae clan. That was in winter too. I didn't know anyone and I was too shy then. Shyer even than now, if you can imagine."

"You weren't born Dalish?" Varric asked in confusion.

"Oh, I was," she explained. "I was born into the Alerion clan somewhere in Neverra, but I was the third mage child, so when my magic manifested, they gave me to the Sabrae clan to raise. I was maybe thirteen when I left, I think."

"They...gave you up?" Varric asked, his face softening. "Your parents just sent you away? You were just a kid."

"It's better than the Circle. I was raised Dalish, just elsewhere. I never knew my Da and my Mother died when I was very young. It was just leaving one Keeper for another and this one appreciated me, even took me as her First. I miss Neverra sometimes, it was lovely there. Varric, hand me the salt would you? I forgot to add a little to this palu." 

"Is that the bread?" 

"Fried dough," Merrill said. "My absolute favourite. It's not too expensive, which is nice. The hilar though I only make for special occasions. There's no meat though, I hope that doesn't put you off."

"It smells amazing," Varric said, passing her the jar.

Merrill hummed to herself as she finished the last of the bread, letting it cool on the table. She gathered the little pastries in a bowl and handed it to Varric. She poured a drink into two chipped mugs.

"Come on then," she said with a smile, walking to the door.

"But it's cold," he protested.

"We won't be out too long, I promise."

Varric followed her out into the Alienage. Merrill took the bowl from Varric and handed him the cup. He took a deep drink. He had no idea what it was, but it had booze in it and it was warm, so he was happy.

He stood slightly to the side as Merrill went among the others. He saw her smile and laugh, handing out treats to the smaller ones. A few older elves did the same, bending over as they checked in. When it appeared Merrill had greeted every child, she came back to him and put her hand on his arm.

"Ready to eat?"

Varric gestured back to the crowd. "Don't run back in just for me."

"I'm still a bit of an outsider to them," Merrill confided. "It's getting better and I don't want to push it too much. No need to make any one uncomfortable with being too 'elfy'."

"Is that a thing?" Varric laughed.

"You'd be surprised," Merrill giggled, bringing them back into the house.

Varric sat back down in the kitchen, drinking his...well, whatever it was. Merrill served her stew like dish into their bowls. She handed him a spoon before bowing and putting her hands together. Varric was quiet until she raised her head again and smiled.

"Please," she said. "I hope it's alright. It's been awhile since I've cooked for someone else. I always add to much pepper to my food when it's just me."

Varric groaned as he ate. To be fair, most of his meals had come from the Hanged Man in the past few months, but this...warm and comforting, flavourable and just delightful. Just like Daisy.

He caught himself, coughing before picking up a piece of the bread.

"I knew it," she sighed. "Too much pepper."

"Just went down the wrong way," Varric lied, taking a drink.

She still looked disappointed as she ate. "I knew I did..."

Varric touched her hand. "Daisy, it's fine."

His heart beat a little faster and he let go, going back to his food.

"This drink is a little strong," Varric admitted.

Merrill apologized, "I'll get you some water. Are you feeling alright?"

Varric reassured, "I'm fine. Just apparently a lighter weight than I thought."

Merrill apologized again, "I'm sorry. I must have mixed it badly. I never drink, but I thought my guests might like it."

Merrill returned with the glass and Varric drank slowly.

"You don't have to impress anyone, Daisy," he said kindly.

"I just feel silly."

"Don't," Varric said. "Honestly, this is the best thing I've eaten all year and I have no idea what it is. And you are lovely company. You're just so goddamn cheerful. I don't get it, Daisy, but I like it."

Merrill smiled softly and his heart flipped over. He apparently needed more water.

"So what happens next?" Varric asked.

"Well, I prayed to Sylaise before I lit the fire and I will pray again when I snuff it out for the night. Among the Dalish, the fire is left blazing all night, but that isn't safe here. I found that out last year. I suppose when it's time for sleep. It's too cold in here otherwise."

"I think this is the first time I've ever seen you have a fire," Varric commented.

"Wood is expensive," Merrill said. "I don't mind, I grew up outdoors."

"Do you need money?" Varric asked softly. "I can see what I can pull-"

Merrill shook her head. "I'm fine, thank you, I can take care of myself."

"But you don't need to," he said.

Merrill said, "I think you and I both know that's not true."

"Cynicism is scary coming from you." 

"I mean nothing badly by it," she said. "It's just how it is. Your best friend is always yourself. That's what the Keeper told me in those first few weeks with them."

"That doesn't sound very Dalish."

Merrill chuckled and drank from her mug. "Maybe not."

She was oddly beautiful by the firelight. Not that she was unattractive normally. Her green eyes reflected the warmth of the flames, her body relaxed in her own home. How had he never noticed how pretty her smile was?

They ate in relative silence, sharing the odd bit of gossip about their friends. Merrill cleaned up as Varric sat by the fire, feeling useless. He looked in amusement at the various trinkets Merrill had collected over her first year in Kirkwall. He turned when she came into her living space, a soft green shawl wrapped around her. 

They sat down by the fire, listening to the wood crackle. Merrill leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said. "It has been wonderful spending tonight with a friend."

Varric felt a lump in his throat. "No problem, Daisy. I had fun."

"It's getting late," she said. "You're welcome to stay over, it is custom to offer rest to guests tonight. But you'd probably miss your big bed."

"And Bianca can't sleep unless I tuck her in," Varric chuckled. 

"And we can't have that," she giggled. 

Varric finished his mug, despite Merrill's protests, and stood, walking to the door. She got his coat and gave it to him as he buckled back into his boots. Merrill opened the door and glanced around, seeing two little elven girls waiting at the threshold.

"Come in," Merrill said cheerfully, "go sit by the fire. Do you need a bed for the night? I can make up my cot. I have some leftovers too. Go, go, get warm."

The girls rushed in, shivering in front of the fire. 

"This happens a few times a month regardless of holidays," Merrill whispered to Varric. "I'm getting a bit of a reputation as what Anders calls a "soft touch". Is that a good thing? He never told me." 

"I think it is," Varric chuckled. "Good night, Daisy."

"Good night, Varric."

Varric walked off towards the Hanged Man, feeling the urge to turn back around. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave the utter pleasantness of the evening, he wanted to wrap it around himself like a blanket and rest. 

Damn, he was drunk.

***

Yet when Varric woke the next morning in his own bed, he felt oddly empty. He went around his morning routine, answering letters, working on his serials. But it felt like he was just waiting around for something.

He heard a knock at his door just around lunch and he looked up, expecting to see Edwina bringing him his usual stale sandwich and lukewarm soup. Instead, Merrill came in with a bowl covered in a towel and a few bags under her arm.

"I was inspired to make us lunch," she said cheerfully. "Is Isabela back home? There's enough for all three if she's feeling well enough. You go lay it out, I'll go get her."

Varric chuckled as he set out the spread. Daisy did best when she had enough money to eat properly. He was going to have to figure out a way to negotiate for very, very discounted groceries at her local merchant stall.

Isabela came in, yawning. She sat down at the table and waved briefly before diving in. She slurped her food greedily.

"Sorry, kitten," she apologized between mouthfuls. "I really did think it was tonight. I came back early and everything. Next year and the year after, I promise."

"It's alright," Merrill said. "Varric kept me company."

Varric realized he had been gazing at Merrill and that Isabela had noticed even before he had.

"I bet he did, kitten. Our lovable dwarf likes showing the ladies a good time."

Varric shot her a dirty look and Isabela smiled warmly. "So, you asked about turmeric? I found a bit for you on this trip, I have it in my room. You won't want to know about the man I bought it from...but all I'll say is that he had a pet nug that sat on his shoulder and well..."

Varric listened to the two chat as he ate, trying not to look at Merrill. When the young elf said her farewells and left, Isabela turned to face Varric, grinning from ear to ear.

"You've got a thing for her."

"I don't," Varric grumbled. 

"You totally do," Isabela giggled. "It's sweet."

"You read too much into things."

Isabela shook her head. "When I know, I know. Aw, my little Varric is in love."

Varric rolled his eyes. "I need to get to work."

Isabela put her hands in the air. "Fine, fine. I'll let you have at it. Let me know how Hard Hightown gets this week."

Varric glared at her and finally noticed the little tin remaining on the table. He opened it and saw the little pastries from the night before. A little note rested on top of them with Merrill's awful handwriting scrawled across it: _I made more for my guests and thought I'd save you some._

Varric's face softened and he heard Isabela giggling as she left the room. He waited until she was gone before he ate them happily. He leaned back in his chair, utterly content.


End file.
